Zahira
by radioactivess
Summary: Snippets, the plot bunny of a journey from a courtesan to a Queen.


Battle lines were drawn, blood was spilt, and heads rolled. All it took was one firm decision, one simple gesture. If this was the plight of Rajasthan then, what did the future hold? Much more if the past couple of years were anything to go by. It wasn't now that the empress Zahira was as feisty and impulsive as she was in her ways of ruling.

* * *

In the time when India was ruled, rather than ruling, there were vigorous attempts to rid the country of courtesans from the British. This was met by tough resistance from the nawabs who sought to sway the decision in their direction but were ultimately defeated. That did not completely quash the existence of the extravagant lifestyle in many provinces. In the midst of this, a newborn was left at the doors of one of the lavish brothels and was given shelter, and a name.

The young Zahira was brought up to learn the ways of a courtesan and when in her early to mid twenties, her beauty attracted many suitors who were only looking to exploit her or turn her into a trophy wife. This was something she was not quite ready to succumb to, and had something else in mind for herself. That didn't spurn them from trying though, however.

* * *

One rain-filled night, while escaping the clutches of a pursuer, Zahira stumbled across a Captain who brought it upon himself to safeguard her honour. This displeased Zahira and the woman argued with him about her capability to defend herself over the body of her now dead pursuer. He was somewhat impressed by the witty nature of the beautiful woman who dared to speak with him in a harsh tone, that too after he had saved her. He believed she should have been a little grateful if anything.

Truth be told, Zahira wasn't a woman who wanted to be known as a damsel in distress and her sharp tongue was more often than not her strength. Although times had never called for violence on her part, she was more than ready to maim her ill-intentioned suitor tonight. After a heated exchange of words, Zahira escaped her way into the night after she injured the Captain, leaving him limping after her with the sole intention of keeping his pride intact by escorting her home.

From that night on, law and order was not just what kept the Captain awake at night. But did this little by-chance meeting have any impact on her? Afraid not. Did she think about him from time to time at least? No, not even _once. _Her mind was occupied with things that were far important than some man who had taken it upon himself to intervene into a situation she believed she could have handled very well. And not only believed, but would have done also. But nevertheless, if things went her way, she would soon be the second, younger wife of the Raja of Rajasthan.

* * *

He was in his early forties, she was in her late twenties. She was a breathtaking beauty, many were ready to all but lay their lives down for her to accept their proposals, for her to become the shiniest of gems in their collection. He, the King, was not anything special but there was something about him that helped her to keep up the charade. Was it his intelligence? Or the way that he didn't treat her for what her profession damned her to be treated as; a courtesan, but he gave her the status of a Queen without her being one. Irrevocably so, he had fallen for her. But had she, too, gained feelings? Who knew, because if she hadn't, Zahira was quite the actress in projecting that she had done.

And projected them well she had. For a mere six months after their romantic entanglement had started, she was married to the King, despite his advisors trying to convince him otherwise every step of the way. Some time after the marriage, her critics were won over by her effortless charm. Zahira was accomplished, she had gotten everything she desired. Well, _not exactly._ For there was another bridge in the way that she had to cross.

* * *

The right to rule. Acquiring that was the toughest feat one could imagine, and she had done just that. In a matter of 26 months, she had wrapped the King around her little finger; torn him away from his first wife and married him, defeated the rising opposition against her before it could make an impact and now, now she had become the one who ruled, not one who was ruled as she was during her time in the brothel.

She, a former courtesan, now held the throne. She, the one with the blood of her beloved husband on her hands and on his newly-gifted dagger, now reigned. A reign of terror it wouldn't be, but if one wasn't stoic in their intentions at the start, they could be perceived as weak. And weak Zahira wasn't. An inexperienced thakurayan, she was, but possibly the most power hungry and passionate ruler that the mughal era had seen.

And the captain, along with his fellows had come before her, exactly 28 months after their first and only meeting. And what he saw those many nights ago was just a shadow of who she was now. Was he disgusted? No, he was not. Impressed, yes. But did she even remember him? Not at all. He was nothing but the a speck of dirt on the marble flooring that she walked on. But she, she was everything. Everything that one could wish for and more. She, she was Queen.


End file.
